


Atone For Your Sins

by MissingOneEye



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Baptism, Biblical References, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Four Horsemen, Horror AU, Injury, Inspired by The Village, M/M, Meadows, Mental Torture, Monsters, Nightmares, Older times, Past, Physical Torture, Psychotropic Drugs, Seven Deadly Sins, Sex, Sins of the Father, Slow Burn, Southern Belle, Southern Gothic, Southern Horror, Stockholm Syndrome, The Bliss, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, bliss, church, only you, possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-09 10:21:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissingOneEye/pseuds/MissingOneEye
Summary: The dead grass resembled gold as the breeze caressed it with a trembling touch. I plucked another flower out of the Earth, watching it quiver in between my fingers before the wind snatched it from me. That's when I heard it. The alarm.





	1. A Mother Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired loosely by The Village (mainly in setting)

I watch as the clouds roll across the wide expanse of cerulean for what feels like hours. Occasionally, they blot out the sun and cast shadows across our fair land. Still, it doesn't make anything look better. It is times like this that I wonder if we can hide our flaws from God when the sky closes its eyes. I know the answer, but I don't want to admit it.

 

Pastor Jerome says that in order to be forgiven, we have to take initiative and hold ourselves accountable for the wrongdoings we've done. I'm afraid to listen, so I only pretend to. What if admitting what I've done makes things worse? 

 

During the day, the people of Hope gather supplies, complete their daily tasks, and pray. I watch them too. When I ask to help, I get various replies. 

 

_"You're not old enough, Rook."_

 

_"Not today, Rook."_

 

_"Go see if your ma needs any help, Rook."_

 

I've stopped asking. I'm thirteen now. I should be old enough to help, but every time I ask I get these expressions of mixed worry, uncertainty, something like that. I'm not sure why.

 

_"Why can't I help like the other kids, ma?"_

 

_"...I can't explain that to you, not now. You gotta trust the Pastor. He knows best."_

 

_"But the other kids..."_

 

_"You ain't like the other kids, Rook."_

 

I think the adults are worried I'll wander too far, and then I'll never come back. 'Cause once the sun goes down if you're not behind the gates you never come back. That's what they tell us. I'm not sure what it means. I think something awful lives past our home, but the thought scares me. I never ask. 

 

I'm afraid of the answer. 

 

Today seems different. There's a celebration of some sort planned for later, but no one really knows what it is for. The children around my age are buzzing about, whispering excitedly. I think someone's getting married, but I am not really great at these kinds of things. Never was a social one, my ma says. 

 

"...did you hear..."

 

"I hear..."

 

I lose important words. They enter one ear and leave another before I can understand them. Ma says that it's okay if I don't understand the other kids. She says I'm special, but I know that it's probably to keep me from feeling too bad about myself. I don't try to speak to the others as they talk amongst themselves. 

 

"...pa says the Good Lord will bless us..."

 

The Good Lord has already abandoned us. I know this but can't seem to tell anyone else. When I mentioned it last time, it earned me a thrashing. 

 

_"Don't speak of such things to the children! Madison, control your offspring!"_

 

_"Ma, we help us. No God is here."_

 

_"I know it feels that way, Rook, but you'll scare the others."_

 

I've always been told that I think differently than the others, and they don't like talkin' to me much. Say I scare 'em. Maybe I do. I don't do anything scary, but maybe it's just my face. 

 

"Hey, Rook."

 

The voice of Mary May Fairgrave startles me out of my thoughts, and I jerk my chin up to look at her. She's around my age, maybe older, she never says. Ma says it's rude to ask girls their ages. 

 

"Where's your pa," she asks when she knows I've gotten her attention. I shrug my shoulders in place of an actual response. This earns me a tsk, and she leans down to peer into my face.

 

"Ya know, we celebrating the Lord today. Day's Sunday. Your pa hasn't been around, but we could really use his help setting up." 

 

"I dunno where he is. Haven't seen 'im."

 

The girl huffs, straightening her posture and brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She's still watching me. I can feel the burn her eyes leave on my skin. She breaks her stare when she looks over her shoulders at the adults. 

 

"Wanna help?" 

 

"...help?" 

 

"Yeah, you know what that means, dontcha?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Want to?"

 

"Okay..."

 

"Get on up and help me 'n Staci then. We're decorating for later,"Mary explains with a soft smile. I don't move, unsure if I'm s'pposed to. She notices, huffs again, and sticks a hand out toward me, "well? Don't just sit there. C'mon."

 

I hesitate before taking her hand. She yanks me to my feet, and I nearly stumble. It's weird having someone talk to me, but I am eager to please. 

 

She lets go of my hand before I even process that I was holding hers, and she leads me toward another kid our age. He's taller than me, body thin and fit, and it doesn't take an expert to guess that he's probably helped around a lot. He has this air that screams he's sure of himself, which makes me feel uneasy. His hair is messy, brown like a bear's fur, and it's pulled back out of his eyes, which are narrow as they watch us approach. 

 

"What's that face for, Staci?"

 

"What's this?"

 

"Rook wants to help."

 

"Huh."

 

"Don't be like that. He can."

 

Staci Pratt. I know the name. Everyone talks about how helpful he is around the village, and all the other kids seem to like him. They're always waiting for the next chance they can get to impress him. I could tell that's difficult to do. He has this aura around him that suggests he doesn't need to be impressed, he needs to impress. I don't know how to feel about it. The look he's giving me says he doesn't care how I feel.

 

I get the impression that he doesn't like me much, so I bite my tongue. 

 

"The slow one?"

 

"Don't say that. He ain't slower than anybody else." 

 

"You know he is."

 

Mary is clearly annoyed. I can feel it in the air, like electricity zapping across the space between them. They're staring at each other, then they're staring at me. The blonde sighs.

 

"He can do it."

 

"Go help Joey," Staci replies.

 

Mary pauses for a moment, shooting me a look I don't understand. With that, she turns and leaves. I want to call out to her, but my tongue feels swollen somehow. 

 

"A'right. You wanna help, dontcha? Yer dumb as a box of nails, but look at you. Wanting to be a big boy now. Nah, listen up," Pratt mutters, clapping his hand on my shoulder hard enough to leave a faint sting. He began to lead me in the direction of the front gates. 

 

"Where we goin'?"

 

"I ain't going nowhere, nohow. You listen. We need some  _flowers_. You see any flowers in here? No. We ain't got diddly. You gotta go out past the gate. Just there. There's some flowers blooming. Big ole white ones. Can't miss 'em, even being dumb as wood." 

 

"...I ain't!" 

 

"Sure, sure, but hear me. You go just out there, while the gates are open, and you grab a big ole handful of them. You hear?" 

 

"Yeah..."

 

"But you best hurry 'cause they lock these here gates when the sun starts goin' down."

 

"...okay."

 

"Well? What are you sitting around here for? Skedaddle!" Staci shoves me forward, and I lose my balance. The ground sends shakes up my knees, and I bite my bottom lip to stay quiet. I taste copper on my tongue, but I swallow it down. The other boy mumbles something under his breath, but unlike Mary, he makes no attempt to help me up. I scramble to my feet, picking Khaki weeds out of my trousers. 

 

"I'm going now."

 

I wander toward the wooden fences, shaved into spikes, and they tower above me. Somethin' awful lives outside these gates, of that I'm sure, but no one's ever seen it before. No one ever speaks of it. Just outside the gates, there are watchtowers made of oak. They're tall, with ladders I can't climb, and I know why they're there. 

 

The people that watch from them light torches in the night to ward off whatever lives in these woods. I've been told they sound alarms too, but I've never heard them before. Ma says it's bad when they do that, so it's probably a good thing I haven't heard one. 

 

There are no flowers. Not immediately. Pratt's a liar. I feel stupid for listening to his words, 'cause I should have known he'd think it was funny if I was scared.

 

I look around, trying to find something to show for. As I do, I notice a dirt path leading away from the village, deeper into the forest.

 

There must be flowers there, growing around the trees. The look on Pratt's face if I bring something will be great. I'm afraid to go, but I want to prove that smug jerk wrong about me. I'm not dumb. Ma says I'm as smart as everybody else. I just show it differently. 

 

I take a deep breath, licking at my smarting lip, and I walk toward the trees. 

 

I've seen the pine trees before. Their needles always peek over the edges of the fences, and I used to be terrified of them. Unknown things lurk in their branches, I know, but standing before them now I feel nothing.

 

_"You must never go into the woods."_

 

_"Why ma?"_

 

_"Dangerous things lurk outside of these gates. They...eat. It is their nature. They...hurt things if they can. It's easy. You are small. Frail. They can hurt you, so stay inside where it's safe."_

 

_"...why do they hurt?"_

 

_"They must eat just as we do. I...don't wanna have to tell you these things. Stay inside."_

 

_"Yes mama."_

 

I'm not better than Pratt, lyin' to my ma. I want to help, but no one will ever let me. They all think I'm dumb. I know that now, 'cause I ain't like them. Ma didn't want me to feel upset over it, but I don't.

 

The air smells nice out here, away from the others. I feel strong here, out in the wood where no one ever dares to go. They're scared, and I am too. The fear makes you stronger though. Pa used to say that, before my ma told him to stop.

 

She knew he'd plant ideas inside my head, but it's not pa's fault. It's mine.

 

The open air, the pine trees, I smell everything. Wildlife in the trees above me. Just birds.

 

I know that. I can hear them chirping. I can see the sun filter in through the leaves, a canopy above my head, and I feel like I can touch it.

 

I want to.

 

There are flowers. I can see them. Bright white with big petals that sway in the wind. The air smells sweet, and I like it.

 

Slowly, I reach for them. My skin feels like it's electric. I feel my fingers tingling, and I wanna touch the world.

 

Everything is here, revealing itself. I lay down in the flowers. They're soft, tickling my skin, and I can think. Breathe. It's like I'm okay.

 

Ma says the world is a dangerous place for kids like me. We feel too much. Think too much, but it's quiet now.

 

I let my eyes fall closed and bask in it. The flowers make me feel like I'm floating.

 

When I open my eyes, the sunlight is dancing off dead grass, lower. Caressing the Earth with trembling fingers. 

 

I'm shaking.

 

I pluck a flower out of the ground, pinching it between two fingers, and it sways in the breeze. 

 

In the back of my mind, I realize I can't see my hands. The light is dying. I try to sit up, but my body feels too light. I can't feel it.

 

My brain is fuzzy.

 

It's okay. I lay back down and stare up at the night sky, watching the sun die.

 

That's when I hear it.

 

First, a snap as something breaks in the trees.

 

Then, a distant ringing, loud enough to cut through the haze. An alarm.

 

My chest feels tighter. I can't breathe. There's something in the darkness that I can't see. Staring.

 

I stare back.

 

It moves closer, and the wind rustles my hair almost violently. I hear screaming, my screaming.

 

"ROOK!"


	2. The Ringing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hands grab at my limbs, tugging so violently it almost hurts.

I am frozen in place, watchin' a shadow approach through the trees. It seems to cut through their branches, and I haven't ever seen anything so big in my entire life. My scream dies in my throat after cracking, and I distantly think about how I probably won't be able to say too much tomorrow. 

 

I feel something akin to pain, but it's not my pain. I don't think it is, anyway, 'cause it hurts more than anything in the whole world. It's deeper than the skin, than my skin, and it burrows in my heart. I can't breathe right. The air keeps getting trapped in my lungs, and I choke on it. 

 

Finally, something is yelling inside my brain to move, so I try again. My butt scoots across the grass, and the smell of the flowers is really giving me an awful headache now. I distantly realize that my head is spinning something fierce, but I can't seem to figure out why as my brain blanks. 

 

The creature is an animal, I think. A big ole something with white fur that seems to glow in the moonlight, and pale blue eyes that watch me through every gap between trees. I can't look away. It towers almost as high as the village gates, its body made of muscle. I can faintly see the way it ripples under flesh. 

 

I try to speak, but my lips are quivering. 

 

I feel another tinge of pain, and something else. A hunger so deep my belly doesn't rumble. It's not  _my_ hunger, but I can feel it radiating off the creature that watches me now. 

 

I dig fingers into the soil, breaking the skin but feeling nothing over the pain gnawing at my gut. A head peeks out from the darkness of the woods, and I see the moon caress sharp teeth. They look too long for the mouth to hold. 

 

I notice something else.

 

There's a crimson pattern painted across the creature's face, like a cross, and it looks kinda like a wolf. No wolf is that big, so I'm trembling more, unable to pull my eyes away. 

 

_"Child. I feel the way your heart pounds inside of your ribs. Can you feel it too? Hard to breathe? I can smell your fear. You stare at me with eyes that know pain, my pain."_

 

I hear the voice, or feel it inside me, inside my head, and a whine escapes my lips. Animals don't speak, but this one does. His voice sounds cold, but there's something else. Something luring me closer. I reach for fur.

 

I never touch it. Never get close enough. Hands grab me from behind before I have a chance to scream, and I'm pulled along with such a force I'm almost sure it'll leave bruises on the skin of my arms. When I squint through the darkness, trying to see who it is, I think I see blonde hair.

 

"Run! We have to go!" 

 

"B-But..."

 

"Ain't no buts! It'll kill you!" 

 

I look over my shoulder, watching how the shadow moves and breathes around us. The creature is somewhere in the woods. I can feel his heart and how it beats. It feels like it's inside my belly, beating against my ribs at a different tempo than my own pounding one. It throws me off. Makes my head spin.

 

"Come on, Rook! The gates!" 

 

I'm pulled through gates that are still open, but that confuses me. I don't get why they're open, not locked or nothing. 

 


	3. I Still Hear The Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We peek through closet doors and wait, holding in breaths we're afraid to release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story will get fucked. Bear with me.

I'm dragged through the village forcefully, and I can still hear the bells ringing somewhere behind us. I'm panicking 'cause everyone else is, and my head still feels like it's full of cotton, like my ears have been stuffed with it, and I can't hear over the din of fear. I let myself get led along 'cause I don't trust my legs to work, and Mary May is running toward her house. It's far back in the corner, tucked away by the other little cottages, safe she says. 

 

"Lookit what he's done," Pratt shouts, which startles me. I didn't see him come up, but his expression has morphed into one of pure terror and that isn't something I want to see. I don't have the energy to be angry with him, 'cause my brain is spinnin' around in circles leaving me feeling lost. I don't understand what's happening, but I don't seem to be the only one.

 

The adults that have heard the bells before are leading everyone indoors, shouting over shaky breaths and split nerves. I can barely hear them. They sound like they're underwater. I can't see my mama in the ground, which has me shouting too, but I'm told to shut up. Pratt slaps his hand over my mouth which leaves the skin stinging. 

 

Mary shoves open her door. We all hurry in, and she shoves it closed with a dull thud that makes the world shrink. She's locking it, tears streaking her cheeks, and I know she's scared. I can feel it radiating off of me like heat, and the feeling to puke punches me right in the gut. 

 

"Get in the closet..."

 

We don't argue. I'm yanked along, back shoved against the wall, and we're all inside of this small closet with our breaths mingling. The screaming outside continues for what feels like hours as people struggle to find somewhere to go. Then, it's silent, save for the bells ringing away in the distance. 

 

For a moment, there's this weight over our heads. We don't know what to do or when to come out, 'cause us kids have never gone through this before. What normally happened? I have a thought in the back of my brain that tells me I'm gonna get in a lot of trouble for listenin' to Staci, and it's no one's fault but my own. No one will ever let me help now 'cause I really fudged it up.

 

We hear a girl screaming, and Pratt grows visibly agitated. 

 

"That's-"

 

There's pounding on the door, someone begging for us to let her in. 

 

Slowly, I push open the closet door just a crack and peek through. At first, it seems like the coast is clear, and I notice Mary's door.  I move slightly, knowing that it needs to be closed. If the monster left, and the door is wide open, who knows what could happen? But, I couldn't leave that girl outside. 

 

My thoughts are quieted by a low growl comin' from somewhere outside the door, closing in on the person outside. Mary covers her mouth, and I can feel how she shakes. She's trying to stay quiet. I try to stay quiet. 

 

Without thinking, I unlock the door, and I pull it open for a girl I recognize. I see her tear-streaked face, and somewhere behind her, I can see a shadow moving closer. It's giant, just like before. I shrink back.

 

"Rook," Mary's screaming as I pull Joey Hudson inside the room. I hear breathing now, growling, and it's closer than it was a minute ago. I slam the door closed, fingers fiddling with its chains as I try to lock it again. 

 

"Hurry," Pratt hisses, waving for us to come back to the closet. We hurry for it, practically throwing ourselves inside. We press our backs roughly against the walls, bitin' our tongues to keep from crying. We sit like that with bated breaths, hearts poundin' in our ears like drums and blood runnin' cold like it's been stuck on ice. I feel frozen, sweat is clingin' to my skin, and my back's gettin' stuck to my shirt.

 

We hear the wooden panels of the floor creak underneath something's weight, and I feel Mary's fingers dig into my arm in blind panic. We stay still. I can hear how Pratt is struggling not to cry, but I don't have time to feel happy about it.

 

All's still again, but we wait. We don't know what to think, or what is inside the house. I can barely breathe. I feel like my head is too light, and Pratt shoves me as if to say  _peek._ I know Mary is givin' him a filthy look, but I don't look at her. How long had passed since the creature entered the village if that's what it was and it wasn't our imagination? I don't know, but I saw it before.

 

The wolf, tall as the trees, approachin' me as I'm pulled away. 

 

I try to will myself to move, but I can't. I'm terrified that whatever it is might still be out there. All of us sit trembling, unsure what to do as we cast glances at one another. It feels like hours have passed, but still. We're all too scared to move closer. The ringing has ceased. 

 

 

Mary is whisperin' somethin' behind me, but I don't listen. I move closer to the door, feeling the night air caress my skin as I reach a hand out for the door. 

 


End file.
